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Representing a puzzling trend in the classical music world, pianist heiress Marina Quasha has become a conductor without traditional training. She is now music director of the German-Romantic Orchester and recognized for paying her musicians well.

What does it take to become an orchestra conductor these days? Sometimes all it takes is a love of music and money in the bank.

Jeffrey Arlo Brown writes at the Baffler, “On the evening of February 18, the Deutsch-Romantisches Orchester (DRO) gave a performance in Berlin’s Funkhaus, a one-time radio broadcasting center converted into a chic concert hall. It was a classical concert like any other — except for the guest list, five-course banquet, and glaring mismatch between the skill levels of the professional instrumentalists and their conductor, a relatively unknown young musician named Marina Quasha.

“Just after 7:00 p.m., Quasha strode to the podium in the cavernous concert hall. A kind of gray mist hovered above the orchestra. She gave the audience a tiny combination bow-nod. She then raised her hands and launched into conducting the overture to Verdi’s opera Rigoletto, followed by arias selected from Tosca and Macbeth, and, finally, Brahms’s First Symphony. Her work smacked of inexperience: Beautiful individual solos were undermined by an overall loud, blunt, and sludgy sound, a sign of missing vision and restraint. She let phrases that needed distinction bleed together and neglected the subtle countermelodies that give the music richness. Her hands beat timid time, and the musicians often ignored her tempo — they barely even looked at her.

“After the concert, attendees and musicians alike filed into the banquet hall, where three long tables with thin candles, handwritten place cards, and elegant menus waited. Amid the chatter, a musician gushed about the DRO’s innovative approach to reaching new audiences, as if we weren’t at an invitation-only concert followed by a luxurious dinner. Others, commenting on Quasha’s conducting ability, offered a masterclass in the art of the polite non-compliment. ‘It’s quite an exciting project.’ ‘She has something in her heart.’ ‘We all have room to grow.’ Perhaps they felt reluctant to bite the hand feeding them — and me — [oysters] and citron caviar.

“In between courses, Quasha popped by where I was sitting and mentioned that she was going to Malta, where she was applying for citizenship in the hopes of competing for the country in horse show jumping at the 2028 Olympics.

“Later, I forwarded a recording of the concert to two musicians whose ears I trust without telling them who made it. The first, a pianist, sent me a list of six general problems and thirty-seven significant but more specific issues including timestamps. ‘The moments when the music mostly plays itself were fine,’ he said, ‘but the parts that actually required conducting skills were sorely lacking.’ The second, an accomplished conductor, told me, “I sense that the orchestra doesn’t trust the conductor.’ … Nevertheless, he said, he could tell the conductor was working with ‘an expensive instrument.’

“Expensive, indeed: Quasha later told me the Funkhaus concert had cost over $290,000. Seventy-seven percent of orchestras in the United States had annual budgets under $300,000 in 2022, according to the League of American Orchestras. Why did all this energy, skill, and money flow into a concert led by a conducting neophyte? The answer lies in a concerning trend new to classical music: the rise of pay-to-play, boutique musical experiences for the ultra-wealthy.

“The musical adventuring of socialite-turned-soprano Florence Foster Jenkins and [others] show that rich people never really lost their desire to prove themselves in the musical realm. But the last decade or so has seen a striking rise in pay-to-play arrangements, a situation that recalls the days when orchestras belonged to princes. These experiences allow people with money but little musical ability to roleplay composer and conductor — for a price. This development flows naturally from this era’s extreme inequality as well as classical music’s precarious state, even in such historically generous countries as Germany. It risks reshaping the art itself to align with the whims of wealthy dilettantes.

“Examples abound. In 2012, Alexey Kononenko, a former mathematician at the mysterious hedge fund Renaissance Technologies, began a career as a composer. Despite never having learned to play an instrument, a rudimentary grasp of music theory, and a ratio of inspiration to imitation that would embarrass a large language model, Kononenko, who goes by the stage name Alexey Shor, has had his works performed all over the world by many of its best musicians. …

“Or consider Susan Lim. Last May, the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, the City of London Choir, and the outstanding pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet gave a performance of a composition by the surgeon and AI booster, who hired musicians to turn her inchoate ideas about technology into music and allow herself the privilege of calling herself a ‘songwriter.’ The work depicts a stuffed lion’s journey from to inanimate toy to sentient companion by way of lyrics like ‘It’s a beautiful invention / Robotics, artificial intelligence / It’s the new medication.’ …

“All this make-believe art making has an uncanny quality. The concerts look and sound a lot like normal concerts, with professional musicians picking up the wealthy dabbler’s slack. The overall effect is hard to localize at first, but it boils down to this: Rich people are building their own classical music world, one where the long years of intense training, fierce competition, and harrowing precarity musicians endure to master their craft matter less than … cold, hard cash. …

“At least Quasha is giving some musicians sorely needed well-paid gigs. But pay-to-play schemes for wealthy dilettantes risk undermining the important thing in classical music that is still largely working — its commitment to artistic excellence — hollowing it out completely in the process. The danger is partly political: Will cash-strapped governments like Germany’s see projects like the DRO and decide they don’t need to pay for its uniquely diverse publicly funded network of 129 professional orchestras if a rich person is happy to pick up the tab for starting their own?”

More at the Baffler, here. You’re allowed one free article.

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Photo: Yuvraj Khanna.
Of her collaboration with kathak dancers from India, tap dancer Dormeshia said, “What really struck me was how familiar some of their footwork feels. We might be using a different part of the foot, but rhythmically we’re speaking the same language.”

Recently in New York, dance traditions from two different countries collaborated to showcase their similarities — and to have some cross-cultural fun.

Brian Seibert wrote at the New York Times in February, “Some do it with metal. Others go at it barefoot and with bells on. But these dancers can communicate across those differences, through music.

“In ‘Speak,’ American tap dancers collaborate with their counterparts in kathak, a classical Indian percussive dance form. …

“On the tap side are Michelle Dorrance, the only tap dancer to have won a MacArthur grant, and Dormeshia, widely considered the world’s greatest. Representing kathak are Rachna Nivas and Rukhmani Mehta. …

“On Feb. 21, ‘Speak’ is to have its New York premiere at 92NY as the culmination of ‘What Flows Between Us,‘ a daylong festival of Indian music and dance curated by Nivas. In line with 92NY’s ‘Women Move the World’ series, of which it is a part, all the leading artists are women. …

“ ‘Speak’ has two bands: a jazz trio and a group of classical Hindustani musicians. There are traditional solos in each idiom, but the kathak dancers also jam with the jazz players, and the tap dancers trade rhythms with the tabla drummer. …

“In one sense, ‘Speak’ is a demonstration of differences between kathak and tap. Where tap dancers have amplifying metal on the bottoms of their shoes, kathak dancers drum the floor with bare feet; they wear bells around their ankles that mark accents like a shaker but also resonate nearly continuously, almost like a high-pitched drone. Each form has distinct ways of using the feet and organizing rhythm, developed over centuries.

“The collaboration has been a learning experience that both sides have had to approach with a beginner’s mind. Dorrance described the ‘insane’ but pleasurable challenge of jumping into a kathak meter of 9 ½ beats. (Tap dancers usually work in threes and fours, maybe fives.) ‘The kathak footwork is so subtle and so fast as it moves between notes that it’s hard to see what’s happening,’ she said.

“Mehta recalled struggling to understand jazz grooves and marveling at tap technique. ‘There are so many things that Michelle and Dormeshia can do with their feet that we can’t,’ she said. …

“Teaching each other has also revealed much about their own forms. ‘It’s like a mirror,’ Nivas said. ‘Michelle and Dormeshia ask me questions about things I learned without being fully aware, and I have to investigate my form to answer.’ …

“Dorrance alluded to the tradition of improvisational exchange in tap, in which one dancer will copy or ‘steal’ a move or rhythm from another dancer, then change it. This is called ‘making it your own.’

“ ‘Some of the exchange here is stealing it back,’ Dorrance said. She can take a tap step that has been translated through the bodies and traditions of the kathak dancers and incorporate it back into hers.

“ ‘We were teaching them the Shim Sham,‘ Dorrance said, referring to a routine from the 1920s that almost all tap dancers know. She noticed that the kathak dancers were shifting their weight in a manner derived from Indian technique. ‘And I’m like, “That’s a great choice, why don’t I shift my weight that way?” ‘ …

“Improvisation is an essential part of kathak, Nivas said, though these days it is often neglected in favor of choreography. With their guru, she and Mehta ‘lived it day in and day out,’ she said. ‘But with him gone, we’re always wanting to have that nourished and fed, and Michelle and Dormeshia do that.’

“This is what flows between them. ‘Hanging around with these tap dancers feels like home,’ Nivas said. …

“The women also connected through a shared reverence for elders. ‘We all take very seriously being tradition bearers and cultural historians,’ Dorrance said. The dancers spent many hours showing each other video footage of masters in their arts, many long dead, delighting in the discovery of similarities.

“ ‘Speak’ is a continuation of a project by Nivas and Mehta’s guru, [Chitresh] Das. In the early 2000s, Das, in his 60s, met the then-young tap phenom Jason Samuels Smith while jamming near the dressing rooms at a performance at the American Dance Festival. ‘It was like love at first sight,’ Nivas said. ‘They couldn’t stop dancing together.’

“That meeting grew into a duo performance, ‘India Jazz Suites,‘ which toured North America and India many times. (It was the subject of the 2013 documentary Upaj: Improvise, produced by Mehta.)

“ ‘Both had this generosity of spirit where they brought in their own communities and worlds,’ Nivas said. Through Das, Nivas met Smith, who invited her to the Los Angeles Tap Festival, where she met Dormeshia, taught kathak and bravely leaped into the intense competitions of one-upmanship that tap dancers call cutting contests.”

More at the Times, here. The little videos really illustrate the text well.

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I guess that for people with little outside contact in normal times, coronavirus doesn’t pose much of a threat. At least, that seems to be the case with a dance school in India, where the pandemic is otherwise taking a huge toll.

From Marina Harss at the New York Times: “The other day, I took a tour around Nrityagram. This small community near Bangalore, in southern India, is an oasis of calm and utter devotion to an ancient art: classical Indian dance. Birds were calling, and around the low, earth-colored buildings containing dance studios, living quarters and a small temple, stood hundreds of vibrantly green trees. …

“This early morning scene — the trees, the gray sky threatening rain, people sitting at breakfast — unfolded as I peered into a screen on my phone late at night in my New York apartment. The tour was virtual, conducted on WhatsApp. That is more or less the only way you can visit Nrityagram these days, since it closed its doors to the outside world at the beginning of the pandemic.

‘We have been living our lives exactly as if nothing has happened,’ Surupa Sen, Nrityagram’s artistic director of 23 years, said later in an interview on Zoom. Under her leadership, Nrityagram continues to be what it always has been, but more so: a dance haven. …

“Even before a general lockdown was declared in India, Nrityagram limited access. The dance students — nearly 150 from nearby villages and as far as Bangalore attend classes — have been asked to stay away, for fear of introducing Covid-19 into this small, intimately entwined community.

“Because there is so little communication with the outside world, the people who live within this self-contained hamlet don’t wear masks, and training continues unperturbed, in studios that are open on the sides to the elements, allowing the breeze to blow through year-round.

“The only people who come and go are a small group of women from the nearby village, who help with daily chores. Upon arrival, they are asked to change into clothes that have been washed on-site and to don masks.

“The form practiced by Ms. Sen and her dancers is Odissi, which originated in the eastern state of Odisha. It is one of India’s eight official classical dance forms, with movements and shapes that evoke the sculptures and bas-reliefs on medieval temples. …

“ ‘The idea is that you submit yourself to a universal something,’ Ms. Sen said. … Ms. Sen and her dancers devote most of their waking hours to perfecting this art, refining and strengthening their bodies through exercise, and perfecting their dancing through technique classes and rehearsals in which they learn traditional Odissi choreography as well as new works by Ms. Sen. …

“At 6 a.m., they rise for a morning run. Then, each woman is responsible for cleaning some part of the hamlet and for placing flowers on the small altars in the dance studios. …

” ‘It’s part of their training,’ said Lynne Fernandez, Nrityagram’s executive director. Next, they warm up by doing yoga or practicing the Indian martial art form Kalaripayattu.

“At 10:30 a.m., dance class begins, starting with exercises that target one kind of movement and then another — sharp and fast, slow and supple, low to the ground, up in the air, and more. In its gradual, almost scientific progression from one part of the body to the next, it is not dissimilar to a ballet class.

“After lunch — ‘our favorite moment of the day!’ one of the dancers, Abhinaya Rohan, said during our WhatsApp tour — they return to the studio for another three or four hours, more if Ms. Sen is creating a new dance.

“In the evenings, they teach. These days, that happens over Zoom, though everyone agrees that it’s not good for conveying the nuances of dance. …

“That makes for at least six hours of dancing each day (except Mondays, their day off), plus conditioning. It sounds exhausting, but Ms. Rohan said: ‘The strange thing about dance is that it energizes you. I never feel tired.’ …

“There are six other members of the community, whose work allows the dancers to devote themselves to their art: Two office workers and two volunteers who are helping to set up a Food Forest, a haphazard-looking but productive and low-maintenance agricultural system that produces most of the community’s food; And there are Ms. Fernandez and her mother, whom everyone refers to as nani, or grandmother. Nani makes meal plans and prepares pickles to last them through the year.”

More of the story here. Lots of gorgeous pictures, too.

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Photo: Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Trumpeter Miles Davis, circa 1959. He once said, ‘”There are no wrong notes in jazz. It’s the note you play afterwards that makes it right or wrong.”‘ A small study suggests that jazz and classical music have different effects on the brain.

Pacific Standard loves these small-scale studies because they are fun and interesting. But as a retiree from an organization dominated by economists, I feel compelled to remind you that larger studies are needed.

Now for the fun. Tom Jacobs writes at Pacific Standard, “Can creativity be taught? Not directly, perhaps. But if such a curriculum exists, it would train one’s brain to regard unforeseen occurrences as potential springboards, rather than disturbing anomalies.

“Fortunately, there is at least one type of specialized training that shapes neural activity in precisely that way. …

“In a new, small-scale study, a Wesleyan University research team led by Psyche Loui and Emily Przysinda report the brains of jazz musicians are uniquely attuned to surprising sounds. Electronic monitoring revealed these players have ‘markedly different neural sensitivity to unexpected musical stimuli,’ the researchers write.

“These musicians are trained not only to anticipate unpredictable turns, but also to engage with them in a positive, creative way. That dynamic reflex stimulates creative thinking.

“The study in … Brain and Cognition featured 36 students from Wesleyan University and the Hartt School of Music. Twelve were studying jazz (including improvisation), 12 classical music, and the final 12 were non-musicians. …

“The participants completed a short version of a well-known creative thinking test, in which they were given six open-ended prompts such as ‘List all the uses you can think of for a paper clip’ in three minutes. They were scored on both the number of items they came up with, and their originality (that is, how often each answer was also given by other students). …

“The young musical improvisers were uniquely receptive to unexpected sounds. …

” ‘The improvisatory and experimental nature of jazz training can encourage musicians to take notes and chords that are out of place, and use them as a pivot to transition to new tonal and musical ideas,’ Loui and her colleagues write. ‘This could lead to the increased cognitive flexibility in jazz musicians.’ …

“It’s possible that people who decide to learn an instrument have brains that are pre-wired in a certain way, but previous research suggests that’s unlikely. Loui plans to study that issue, as well as whether other types of artistic training — say, improvisational theater — will yield similar results.”

More here.

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The blogger at A Musical Life on Planet Earth — who has been healing from an injury suffered when he nearly tripped on an eager toddler in a music class — doesn’t need to be told that music is healing.

But for the rest of us, a new study from Greece on music and heart health might be enlightening. Tom Jacobs writes at Pacific Standard, “There are many ways of reducing your risk of a heart attack. A healthy diet. Regular exercise. And don’t forget your daily dose of Dylan or Debussy.

“A newly published, small-scale study from Greece finds listening to either classical or rock music positively impacts two important predictors of cardiovascular risk. The effects are particularly pronounced for classical music fans, who, in the study, had a more robust physiological response to music of either genre.

“ ‘These findings may have important implications, extending the spectrum of lifestyle modifications that can ameliorate arterial function,’ a research team led by cardiologist Charalambos Vlachopoulos of Athens Medical School writes in the journal Atherosclerosis. ‘Listening to music should be encouraged in everyday activities.’

“The pulse waves of one’s circulatory system and the rigidity of one’s arteries are related but independent predictors of morbidity and mortality. Essentially, the stiffer one’s blood vessel walls become, the greater the pulse pressure, and the harder the heart has to work to pump blood into the arteries. This can lead to higher blood pressure and an increased strain on the heart. …

“The participants, described as ’20 healthy individuals,’ visited the lab three times. On each occasion, baseline measurements of aortic stiffness and pulse wave reflections were taken following a half-hour rest period.

“They then either listened to a half-hour of classical music (primarily excerpts from J.S. Bach’s Orchestral Suites); a half-hour of rock (including tracks by Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Green Day); or a similar period of silence. …

“The key result: both indicators were lower after participants listened to either genre of music. … More at Pacific Standard here.

And you can listen to to Will McMillan’s healing singing at A Musical Life on Planet Earth, here.

Will McMillan

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